Arc Souls
by yullingkk
Summary: This is the tale of a young warrior, transported through the rifts between worlds, to the treacherous land of the undead. Follow Jaune Arc as he faces all of what Lordran has to offer.


Disclaimer: This is a fan-based crossover. RWBY and Dark Souls are not owned by the author. They are property of Rooster Teeth and FromSoftware, respectively.

_A/N: So this is the first chapter of the first fic that I hope to get more done with. But firstly, I really love Dark Souls and RWBY in general. When I watched RWBY, particularly the scenes with Jaune in them, I felt an almost **sadistic** need to share all of the dark souls community's and my experience with this one character. I felt like Pyrrha, while being a good trainer, was a bit too overprotective to really help Jaune improve on his "build". The only way he could become badass, like the rest of the RWBY cast, was through experience. Add some immortality and a fairly new and dangerous world, and we have a tale about loss, growth, and **redemption**._

_Props to The Flippant Writer for beta-ing this fic. I really appreciate it, man._

_So yeah... I don't really want to reveal the entire plot through this one A/N. I'm going to shut up for now. Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading, and reviews would be greatly appreciated. Enjoy!_

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><p>It was a rather pleasant day in Lordran. Considering that the climate rarely, if ever, changes, it was somehow still easy for this small continent's residents to notice the slight change in atmosphere in this otherwise dreary land. The Burg was exceptionally peaceful. Hollows roamed about as always, but there was a certain calm to them on this specific day. Few battles were fought between the human undead and the hollowed ones, so it was possible to presume that the hollows may have reached what could be regarded as some emotive response, to their current situation, close to boredom. If they were capable of feeling emotions. It was as if on this special day, they would give a traveler or potential victim a 5 second head start before attempting to devour their souls. Just so they could savor the moments in-between.<p>

Of course, that would've been absurd. Hollows were devoid of any feelings or intelligence that would make them go along with such a stupid yet ingenious idea. They lived only to feed on souls. Eternally, without rest. So it could be said that the slight tinge of boredom that marked the lower parts of the Burg was warranted because of the lack of new souls. That, or perhaps...

The huge Hellkite Dragon fight on top of the bridge may have dwarfed any other battle in comparison due simply to its sheer magnitude.

Before flames spread across the linear structure, a hooded warrior paced himself towards the ferocious beast. Luckily, the dragon's initial breath took care of most of the hollows in his way, allowing the warrior to slide himself to the far-left where a wall would provide him with crucial cover. Watching the breath mercilessly batter down the remaining hollows, the hood took out a small orange jar and began drinking from it. He then took out his sword and stayed in cover.

Using the reflection of the scope off his binoculars to peak out of his cover, the hood could see the Hellkite standing comfortably on the gate building. It would be difficult to attack it when it's sitting all the way up there. Peering closer, he immediately ripped the binoculars back to his chest and pressed to the extreme left of the wall upon noticing the drake, with tiny flames spewing out of its mouth, bending its neck backwards.

It seemed the warrior's intuition was correct, for the next thing he knew, more flames had sputtered throughout the bridge like a perfectly vertical waterfall of destruction and calamity. The warrior stayed silent. This dragon or drake or whatever it was called certainly had an itchy trigger finger. Or itchy vocal cords. Or whatever drakes used to breathe fire, the hood didn't know. Calmly sitting down on his patch of safe zone, many thoughts soon crossed the young man's mind as he attempted to figure out a way out of this hazardous situation.

Should he attempt to make a run for it? Perhaps he should, but in which direction? Even though his armor was strong enough to help him survive one of the dragon's weaker flame attacks, provided he had enough Estus to keep himself healthy, it would still be suicide to go back from where he came. Then there was the staircase opposite to him. If he could sprint fast enough, and he sure he was capable of such a daring feat, the warrior would make himself down the stairs faster than the drake could even spew its flames. Then there was the third option. The more suicidal option. In this scenario, he would run straight towards the building where the drake was sitting on. This would require more agility, as there was no cover other than the one he was hugging to block a second fire torrent. If he was lucky enough to get inside, the warrior would quickly dash as far to the left or right as possible. Hopefully, that would keep him out of the way of a flame whiplash.

Thinking on these three options more would prove difficult however, as a loud thump had just taken place, signaling that the beast has indeed landed on the same level as the young warrior. The warrior hoped that it was just his imagination. The sound of huge talons skulking ever so close to him were a huge indication, in of themselves, that this was indeed happening. He gulped.

What should he do? The first option was suicide. The second option was also suicide. And as the footsteps got closer, any other option had proven to be complete and utter suicide. In fact, his exact presence here was, in and of itself, just suicide. The hood began to whimper solemnly, and in an effort to keep himself cool, slid down his hood to reveal short, messy blonde hair. A glint of his azure pupils showed how determined, even through this insane mess, he was to stay alive.

And upon taking his hood off, the warrior had now found himself face-to-face with the Hellkite beast. His determined gaze soon turned to that of absolute terror as he stared directly into the red-winged monster's tiny amber pupils.

"O-oh crap," the warrior blurted out.

Almost as if it were taking that as a sign of defeat, the drake roared and flew up into the air to prepare it deadliest attack. The hood stood and stared, almost enthralled by its flurrying spectacle, when he snapped out of his trance upon noticing the flames spewing out of the drake's mouth. This wasn't good. Trying his best to move, his legs just wouldn't let him. They were frozen to the ground due to his fear and the wind turbulence from the drake's wings making it difficult to move past under them.

Out of nowhere, a bolt had struck the beast, distracting it from its ferocious death from above and giving the hood a chance to run, past the drake, towards the altar which it had been sitting on. Before the blonde could reach it however, sharp talons had scooped him up into the air. He allowed a girly scream to burst out of his mouth as the drake dragged him to certain doom.

Such was not the case however, as two curved blades had scratched at the beast's back, giving the blonde the opportunity to land himself on top of a nearby tower. He did so, and before he could celebrate the cancellation of his horrific murder, a new problem had made itself apparent in the blonde's eyes. Particularly the problem of a rather unfriendly-looking black knight with a humongous great sword, currently staring down at him. Another was the fact that he had dropped his weapons on the bridge before he was scooped up.

And now, without anything to defend himself with, the young warrior stared certain death in the face that just happened to take the form of a black knight heaving its great sword right at the blond's cranium.

Except, that didn't so much happen, as just when the blonde's head was nearly turned into graffiti on the pavement, a longsword had stung the phantom from behind, immobilizing it before the wielder had kicked it off their blade and off the tower. The wielder then turned to the blonde, who had sat there with amazement filling his features, and smiled.

This smile was a shock to the blonde, as the features of his rescuer were fairly similar to a person he had known who didn't smile as often. At least when he was around. And who probably wouldn't come to his rescue, much less with a longsword of all weapons.

The blonde allowed himself two seconds to grasp the existence of the person in front him. The pure white hair. The elegantly clear blue eyes. The petite features being overshadowed by the uncharacteristically heavy-looking chain mail. And then the blonde allowed a single word to pour out of his voicebox as he continued to stare at the figure with awe.

"Weiss...?"

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><p>...<p>

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><p><span><strong>Beacon Academy<strong>

Jaune Arc awoke with a shout. He quickly attached one of his hands to his mouth to curtail anymore potential noise. Peering around the room to see if he had awoke anyone, Jaune slowly slid his hand off and scratched his head with a quiet sigh.

He looked around the room once more, and upon realizing that he had not woken a single one of his roommates up with his sudden spasm, quietly slipped out of his bed and slid both of his feat into his specially-crafted bunny slippers. He then proceeded to tiptoe towards the room's exit, making sure to not accidentally step on any of Nora Valkyrie's stuffed animals, which had usually laid on the ground this time of night.

Only when his hand had reached for the doorknob, could Jaune hear soft muttering escaping one of his roommate's beds. It was Pyrrha Nikos.

"Jaune...what's wrong?" Pyrrha asked from beneath her blanket. Her voice had sounded tired.

Jaune stayed silent. He didn't want to let her know that he had woken up from a strange dream again. This would've had to been the 30th time this had happened this year.

"Did you have another dream again?" she mumbled. "...You know...You can talk to us."

He looked towards Pyrrha's bed, wondering if he should tell her or keep silent. He remembered that she gave him the exact same offer when they were both awake. Naturally, the blonde had shunned the offer, preferring to take care of this problem on his own. Upon feeling the pores under his eyes (formed from several sleepless nights), he had started to regret that decision.

Jaune turned around and quietly glided his way through a small space in the doorway. He steadily closed the door and sat down against one of the walls.

The blonde wrapped his hands along his features and sighed. He then proceeded to look up at the ceiling and count how many imaginary cracks could form on the pavement before he would get tired and go back to bed.

This had become a habit of Jaune's ever since the 14th dream, or what he had believed to be the 14th dream at least. Though it was most certainly the 14th dream, as when Jaune started counting, after his 22nd dream, his fingers had specifically noted 14 dreams in total which had been experienced during the date of October 20th.

If it wasn't weird enough that he could specifically remember the dates in which these dreams had occurred and how many he had actually gone through right up to his first experience. Jaune could vividly remember every single one of his dreams as if they had happened yesterday.

He also could vividly remember real life events concerning the recollection of his dreams via talking about them. Such as when he first told Lie Ren and Nora about his late night episodes. Nora was her usual energetic self, interrupting the story at every 5 seconds; Ren was a polite listener, absorbing each detail with a silent demeanor befitting that of the lotus assassin. It was only through his second story that Jaune began to realize how clearly and concisely he was laying out the events. As he spoke, it felt like the numerous scenes from his dreams were playing out at the moment. And he could witness intense battles happening just behind the two.

Ren actually had to wave his hand over Jaune's face when the blonde would sometimes get lost in thought. But that wasn't the scariest part. Upon finishing each story, Jaune's senses grew more precise. Without even trying, he could see numerous aura particles floating around Ren, accompanied by the sound of his heart beating. 40 thumps in total before Jaune's senses dulled again.

And from far across the room where she had leapt around, Jaune could (reluctantly) smell Nora's breath and accurately guess what she had for dinner last night. Again, these huge enhancements in his sight, hearing, and smell had only occurred during each time he was telling or had told a story. But the actual memories remained. He remembered all of those instances of Ren's pending silence and Nora's abrasive interruptions like they were the back of his hand. And that's what really frightened him.

How could something as insignificant as a dream be able to affect his body so? The blonde wasn't one to investigate deeply into matters which hadn't concerned him. Which furthered his surprise at the fact that this anomaly was specifically directed towards him. No matter the case, Jaune had to get to the bottom of this. If not for himself, then for his teammates who worry just as much as he does about these things.

Counting a few more of the imaginary cracks, Jaune stood up, stretched his limbs, and with a bold conviction resonating within his tired blue eyes, decided to go back to sleep. But when he awoke, he would definitely try to get as much assistance with his dream problem as possible. Only tonight, he would allow himself one more dream.

If not to further strengthen his position, then simply to experience the mysterious land in which he had kept visiting. So that he may fight every monstrosity that stood in between him and whatever he was searching for. And moreover, so that he could see those amazing people again. The ones; who never left his thoughts, no matter how hard he tried.


End file.
